Fireside
by wrestlefan4
Summary: Short, Fluffy, BHBK OST. Bret invited Shawn to Alberta for a hunting trip. The two are simply warming up after being out all day in the cold. :  Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels BHBK.


The fire crackled warmly in the fireplace and gave a glow to the cozy, rustic cabin. Bret was using a poker to prod at it, knelt down with the knees of his jeans against the stone design at the base of the fireplace. The flames gave a healthy leap and Bret enjoyed the toasty feeling tingling against his cold-reddened cheeks. He placed the poker back into the small stand at the side of the fireplace and used the edge of the stone mantle to help himself up. His knee gave a stiff protest, but he ignored it, peeled his ear-flap hat off of his head, and gave his curly salt-and-pepper mane a shake.

He turned to see Shawn tugging off his boots and placing them near the door where the rest of their hunting gear and Bret's chunky brown boots were piled. The snow caked onto the soles and sides of the boots began to chunk off and melt slowly. Shawn wore head-to-toe camo, his long golden hair tied into a pony tail of waves hung through the hole in the back of his hat. His glasses were perched on his nose and were fogged over.

"Hoo—wow. That moose was ENORMOUS. Didja see the size of those antlers?" Shawn stretched his arms out dramatically in demonstration. "What a rack!" Shawn swiped his glasses off and rubbed the lenses on the front of his coat to try and clear them.

"Oh yeah, we don't get moose in Canada very often." Bret gave Shawn a small smile and bobble of his head, as if his little witticisms were quite funny.

"When d'ya usually get 'em?" Shawn held his glasses up to the light and squinted at the lenses to make sure they were cleaned. Bret thought the face Shawn made as he did so was rather goofily adorable but he didn't let on. Bret gave one shoulder a slight shrug.

"Oh, ya know, Friday's are good."

"Then we were really lucky!" Shawn exclaimed happily, giving up on his glasses for the time being and just sliding them into one of the many pockets on his thick coat. "'Cause it's Saturday!" Shawn strode across the room to the fire place, his thick wool socks sliding slightly against the dark wood flooring. He pulled his gloves off and held his palms towards the fire, giving his fingers a wiggle.

"Aaah...that's nice." Shawn sighed, closing his eyes and letting the warmth slowly trickle up his fingers, into his hands, and amongst the frozen bones of his wrists. He could hear a zipper being opened, and the rustle of fabric, and he cracked one eye open to see Bret had shed his coat and tossed it into one of the comfy dark leather chairs that sat near the fireplace.

Shawn took a moment to admire Bret's form, which even age, wear, and layers of clothing could not erode away. To Shawn Bret would always be one of the most gorgeous male figures—other than himself, of course. Shawn chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Bret asked, running a hand over the knitted patterns in his slate colored sweater, then adjusting the collar of the black and gray flannel shirt that peeked out from the v-neck of the sweater.

"Nothing." Shawn said quickly, looking into the fire and seeming uninterested in Bret, whose soft lips were pressed together into a line and with a look in his dark eyes that said Bret knew better.

"You oughta get outta that coat too. I can't hardly see ya with all that camo on." Bret said, turning to Shawn with the slightest glimpse of suggestiveness in his eyes. He touched the top snap on Shawn's coat with a fingertip, and then tugged the fabric so the snap opened with a small pop. Bret made his way down the row of snaps, and then slid the zipper down slowly and slid Shawn's coat off of him, never taking his eyes off of Shawn's blue ones. Without looking, Bret tossed Shawn's coat aside. It missed the chair in which Bret's coat lay just barely, but neither of them made any move to go pick it up.

Next came Shawn's outer shirt, and the forest-decor fabric came off of his body followed by a neon orange insulated shirt which was beneath that one. Shawn shivered, his skin chilly and nipples hard pink buds due to the cold that had still found a way to seep through his layers. Shawn's hands met Bret's shoulders and his fingers twisted amongst the curls, dark chocolatey brown laced with strands of fine silver. Bret's large, warm, hands slid over Shawn's exposed flesh, the callouses on Bret's fingertips brushing over swirl of hairs and the sensitive nubs on Shawn's chest. Shawn shivered again, but it had nothing to do with being cold.

His lips pressed to Bret's as one hand slid around to cup the back of Bret's head as they kissed lazily for a few moments, Bret's strong arms drawing Shawn nearer and his hands sliding round Shawn's sides and then up and down the graceful curve of Shawn's back. Bret's fingers found the tie in Shawn's hair and tugged it free, and then breaking the kiss he pulled Shawn's hat off and tossed it aside, taking in the spill of golden hair that fell over Shawn's shoulders and brushed the Texan's blush and stubble-shadowed cheeks.

Shawn licked his lips savoring the taste of Bret upon them. The moments they had together were cherished and sacred to both of them. Neither of them liked to rush the time they now had together, no matter what it was they were doing, as it had taken them a very long and painful way around to come together once again and start over with a new found peace and a friendship that both knew was a precious gift.

Shawn's fingers traced the patterns in Bret's sweater, enjoying the soft woven fabric as long as he could before it had to go; up and over Bret's head, leaving his earth-and-steel curls in a mess around his smiling face. Shawn threw the sweater to the side and lovingly smoothed Bret's hair away from his face. Shawn could only smile with happy tears in his eyes, thankful that God had saw fit to give them a second chance and the right conditions in which to start over; it was more than either of them could have ever hoped for and at times it was still hard to believe, though it went on existing daily whether or not it was anything expressed from one man to the other, or just a thought of the other that came up in the middle of the day.

The hunting trip to which Bret had invited Shawn for simply wanting his company found them now in front of the fire, Shawn clad only in a pair of khaki's with a waist band high on his torso and a ridiculous amount of pockets, while Bret was left in a pair of dark and well fitting jeans that rode a bit low on his hips. Shawn's hands explored the soft skin of Bret's body. Bret's skin was slowly warming beneath his touch, the muscle beneath still toned and well conditioned, the dark hairs on Bret's chest and belly interspersed with threads of silver.

Their mouths met again, teeth gently clicking, tongues sliding wetly in and around each others mouths. The warmth of the fireplace seemed to cocoon around them, the only sounds in the room the minute crackles of the logs in the hearth and the soft sounds of their breathing and lips moving together. Shawn's fingers threaded through Bret's curls, letting the last ringlets slip away from his touch, and then his hands moved down Bret's spine and one palm moved further downwards to whisper over the denim of Bret's jeans and come to rest slipped into one of Bret's back pockets. Bret parted their kiss just barely, and a small chuckle tickled against Shawn's lips.

Bret got down to the floor and sat there, his hands tugging at Shawn's and urging him down as well. Shawn followed Bret's lead and sat down upon the soft bear rug, but decided it was more comfortable to lay down. Shawn flopped over onto his side, his hair spilling half over his face, and ran his fingers through the brown fur. Bret curled around him, his bare chest pressed perfectly to the warm curve of Shawn's back. He pulled Shawn's hair away from his face, tucking the loose strands behind his ear, and placed a quick kiss to Shawn's cheek before just settling down with him.

Shawn and Bret lay on the bear fur in front of the fire, together, both drifting contentedly near the warm, hazy, edges of a late evening nap. It was one of those rarer perfect times, and after a yawn and a cat like stretch, Bret began to doze, and in a sleepy rumble murmured something that was incoherent to either man. Shawn made a sort of purr of consent. The fire crackled. Outside the snow began to melt away. Even the longest, harshest, winters could not last forever; the sun was always behind the clouds, just waiting for a chance to break through.


End file.
